It is a natural human tendency to avoid things that have burned us in the past. Stemming from deep-seated survival instincts, we know that when something has caused us pain, or hurt our chances for survival, we must avoid it whenever possible. This same instinct that caused prehistoric man to steer clear of snakes has also prevented me from eating Chinese food since Easter (with literally only one exception) after I got the worst case of food poisoning in my life. It’s a real shame, because I do enjoy sketchy Chinese food.

I think this same phenomenon has substantially hindered the celebration of what should be an immense feast for the American church. There are few nations on earth that have stronger anti-monarchial tendencies than we do, and that’s
perfectly understandable given our history. But the Feast of Christ the King, Lord of the Universe, which we celebrate today, is about more than the history of governmental structures here or elsewhere.  If we don’t look past our proud emphases on self-reliance and love of liberty to accept Jesus Christ as our one and only king in this life and the next, then we are delaying what should be our principle goal in this life: to live as Jesus’ disciples and call others to serve Him as well. 
 
As one of the oldest democracies in the world, Americans are reticent to accept a King of any sort. Even if we are open to committing ourselves entirely to Jesus Christ and His Gospel, we are likely still hesitant to bring our love for Christ and His Church out into the public square. Someone might go to daily Mass, pray with the scriptures often, and serve the poor in their community, but still diligently avoid
talking to people about their devotion to God in public. It’s intimidating. We feel that separation of Church and state is absolute and final, and even broaching the topic with others is aggressiveand unwelcome.

I don’t deny that a certain amount of tact and humility goes a long way in such conversations, but when Pope Pius XI instituted the feast of Christ the King, he did so because he was looking out at a world that had just been devastated by a World War and was already marching inexorably towards another. The problem, in his discernment, was not that people were too focused on God, but that they had boxed Him entirely out of the public square. In 1925 he wrote “these manifold evils in the world were due to the fact that the majority of men had thrust Jesus Christ and his holy law out of their lives; that these had no place either in private affairs or in politics: and we said further, that as long as individuals and states refused to submit to the rule of our Savior, there would be no really hopeful prospect of a lasting peace among nations.” (Quas Primas, 1925) As nations and individuals resolutely refuse to submit to Christ as their King, they move farther and farther away from peace.
 
This is an uncomfortable idea with which we must grapple, because it connects to our identity as citizens of an earthly nation, but citizens whose ultimate destination is somewhere else entirely. What would it mean for us to boldly proclaim our faith in public at the risk of making ourselves or others uncomfortable? What would the impact be if we stepped away from the absolute division that we sometimes draw between what we believe about God and humanity and how we vote or go about our lives as Americans? As we celebrate Christ the King, I challenge us as a faith community to go beyond the temptation to simply accept Christ as our “spiritual king” and be bold in proclaiming Him to be the master of our entire lives. Jesus offered His entire self for our sake on the cross, and He offers us His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity on altars all around the world. He expects us to give everything in return.
 
Prayers always,
Fr. McC